I.T. Page #5

to make you a smaller target.

Miss Regan, I need everything,

it must be absolute.

We start with the house.

We need to make our enemy

deaf, dumb and blind.

Done.

(BEEPING)

HENRIK:
I need you to be

completely honest with me

or this doesn't work.

I'm not here to judge,

Mr. Regan,

I'm here to fix your problem.

So, if you've touched a computer

in the last five years...

...I need to know when, where,

and why.

This might take a while.

This f***ing house.

It means nothing to me.

HENRIK:
So why did you build it?

I don't know.

The only two things I care about

are sleeping in the other room.

Everything else...

is just bullshit.

What?

His name is not Ed Porter.

He was born Richard Edward

Portman, Hawthorne, California.

January 12, 1983.

Parents divorced, 1986.

He lives with his mum,

moves a lot.

His father commits suicide,

He spent his teenage years

in protective custody.

His mother

was abusive towards him.

How predictable.

It would explain his obsession

with you and your family.

His medical records includes

a wide range of pharmaceuticals:

Lumictil, Zoloft, Neurontin...

So... So what are we

dealing with here?

A sociopath, a psychopath?

He has serious

mental health issues.

Broad spectrum.

Okay, here we go.

Ah, as I suspected.

He never worked for NSA.

Wait a second, he... he showed me

a photograph of himself

with these soldiers in Kandahar.

- HENRIK:
This one?

- That's the one.

Not for real.

Not a team guy.

Hired by some NSA subcontractor,

Fired for "misuse

of proprietary technology."

Okay, what does that mean?

Apparently spied on female

co-workers and ex-girlfriends.

Jesus.

Works as an independent IT tech.

Seven, eight companies.

No job lasts more than

a couple of months.

Then hired by you.

Lucky you.

Look, he's really quite sick,

but he's also a bad man,

Mr. Regan.

Nice firewall, Mr. Porter.

Not so clever, not so clever.

MIKE:
What is it?

Nothing on his drive.

So?

Hackers don't trust the cloud.

They operate

from peripherals, thumb drives,

air-gapped laptops.

Portable items.

- Very good news.

- Why?

We hire someone to break in

and take them.

Good news, you have

them in your possession,

for evidence or to destroy.

I'll do it.

Excuse me?

I'll do the break-in.

I need everything

he's got on me.

You're a connected man,

Mr. Regan, we hire someone.

I'm sick and tired of

hiring people to fix my life.

That's how I got into this mess.

I'll do this myself, no debate.

Very well.

How do we get him out of there?

Good question.

She could get him out of there.

Excuse me,

what time do you close tonight?

We close at 11:
00.

HENRIK:
I'm so sorry.

- Are you okay?

- HENRIK:
Yes, sorry.

Okay. That's okay.

- MIKE:
What time?

- Um, 11:
00.

Eleven o'clock,

thank you very much.

(SIGHING)

(ELECTRONIC BUZZING)

Okay, now we control

her dating app.

(FOOD PROCESSOR WHIRRING)

(CELL PHONE CHIMING)

(BEEPING)

- He bought it.

- (KEYS TAPPING)

HENRIK:
When you enter,

you will trigger his alarm.

I can silence it,

but it will send him a signal.

I can delay it

as long as practical.

For this part, we go low tech.

Good luck.

Wait for my signal,

and remember, Mr. Regan,

be careful.

Go.

In three,

two,

one...

- (BANGING)

- (BEEPING)

(BEEPING STOPS)

- (ALARM BEEPING)

- Oh, sh*t.

Wait!

We're good. Continue.

(HEAVY BREATHING)

He's here.

(MIKE SIGHING)

As quickly as you can,

Mr. Regan.

Let's go to work.

Place the camera.

Okay, how's this?

Okay, good.

Go to his desk.

ED:
I got here as fast

as I could.

HENRIK:

Do not touch the computer.

Err...

How... how are you? I'm not

actually, um, working right now.

ED:
Oh, that's okay, me neither.

HENRIK:
Under his desk.

I got your message.

Message?

ED:
Yeah, yeah.

MIKE:
There's nothing.

There's nothing here.

They could be anywhere.

There's nothing here.

HENRIK:
It will be in the room.

Look around you.

There's just some

f***ing toy-type thing.

He doesn't have toys.

- That's it.

- MIKE:
What? It's a f***ing toy.

HENRIK:
Pull it apart.

- Take it apart, Mike.

- MIKE:
Ah, damn it! Come on.

HENRIK:
We have to move quickly,

Mr. Regan.

Hey, where's my phone?

Where is it?

Where is my phone?

MIKE:
I got it.

Okay, that's one.

BARISTA:

Seriously, I can't find it.

MIKE:
That's two.

Wait, did you take my phone?

No, I didn't take your phone.

Someone's been playing games.

Oh, sh*t.

You must hurry.

Just leave it, abort.

Sixty seconds.

MIKE:
Damn it, come on!

HENRIK:

We burn. He's on the move.

Abort!

- MIKE:
I got them all.

- HENRIK:
Grab what you can.

He's moving.

Now or never.

- Forty seconds.

- I'm almost there.

- That's it, I got them all.

- Five seconds.

HENRIK:
Get out now!

- He has a gun.

- MIKE:
What? Where is he?

HENRIK:
Okay, wait.

WOMAN:
Can you confirm

you're going to the...

In the building.

We got an officer down inside,

Division Eight, Battalion One,

on a shooting...

14300 East Alameda Avenue.

HENRIK:
I see him.

Do exactly as I say.

I'll tell you when to move.

(ALARM BEEPING)

Step into the hall.

Wait.

Go.

Your left.

The fire escape, next floor up.

Go!

- (LOUD FOOTSTEPS)

- (SIRENS BLARING)

ED:
Hey!

- (BULLET WHIZZING)

- (MIKE GRUNTING)

ED:
You motherf***er!

MIKE:
I got them, I got them.

Okay, let's go!

Come on.

COP 1:
Freeze, on your knees!

COP 2:
Don't move!

Put the gun down, now!

- I have a permit!

- COP 2:
Drop the f***ing weapon!

- ED:
I have a permit.

- COP 2:
Put it down!

HENRIK:
Oh, sh*t.

(RADIO CHATTERING)

ED:
Look, officers, my permit's

in order, I just... I need it.

There's this guy...

COP:
What guy?

This guy,

I used to work for him...

- He's been stalking me.

- COP:
You can't shoot him.

I won't.

COP:
You got a problem,

then you come to us.

Okay.

- COP:
All right?

- All right.

COP:
What do you need a gun for?

You come to us,

and we'll sort it out.

Edward?

I just... I just need it.

You know,

I've been f***ing scared.

I just don't know

where else to turn.

COP:
You come to us

and we'll sort it out.

Yeah.

COP:
Now I'm gonna

give you this gun, tonight,

- at the station.

- Okay.

COP:
After you calm down.

Thank you.

- (STATIC PLAYING)

- (CRASHING)

- (EXHALING)

- (PHONE RINGING)

OPERATOR:
9-1-1,

where is your emergency?

9-1-1, what is your emergency?

Hello, operator?

- OPERATOR:
Sir.

- Hello

My name is Edward Porter.

(SOBBING) I'd like to report a...

Yes, I've been attacked.

OPERATOR:
Tell me

what's wrong with you, okay?

It's, it's a, what do you

call it, it's a home invasion.

OPERATOR:
All right,

I need you to stay calm, okay?

(SOBBING)

I don't know if he's still here.

I'm hurt pretty bad,

can you please come?

422147th Street.

- OPERATOR:
I have...

- ED:
Please come, please!

OPERATOR:

I have someone coming to you.

(PHONE CLATTERING ON FLOOR)

(PHONE RINGING)

(DISTANT SIRENS WAILING)

(SIRENS APPROACHING)

(THUDDING)

Good luck, Mr. Regan,

with the rest of it.

Thanks.

(FOOTSTEPS)

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes